Noble Hearts
by Loony Luna Fan
Summary: Sir Harry, a noble knight of House Gryffindor, is to be married to fair Ginevra of Weasley. He is captivated by her beauty; however, his heart does not belong to fair Ginevra, but to Luna, a peasant girl. Although Harry loves Luna, he cannot cause dishonor to his parents by tainting the Potter name in refusing to marry Ginevra. A solution comes from the most unlikely place. H/L G/?
1. Prologue

**Full Summary:** Knight Harry, one of the most brave and Noble knight of House Gryffindor is to be married to the fair and beautiful Ginevra of Weasley. Sir Harry is captivated by her beauty; however, his heart does not belong to fair Ginevra, but to Luna, a peasant girl. Harry wants to be with Luna, the girl he loves, but he cannot cause dishonor to his parents by tainting the Potter name in refusing to marry Ginevra. The solution to Sir Harry's dilemma may come from the most unlikely place. Originally written for 2012 Interhouse Fest on LJ.

 **Author's Note:** I don't normally write outside of Hogwarts Era or very early post-Hogwarts, but the prompt called for it, and I really wanted to try something different. Give the first few chapters a shot, but I understand if this is just a little too removed from the norm. I hope you do like it though!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own or intend to profit from the Harry Potter series or any of its affiliates and companies. Everything but the layout of the imaginary kingdom belongs to someone else.

Prologue

There were dark times before the fall of the ruthless and bloodthirsty Lord Thomas, patriarch of the Slytherin house and former ruler of the Southern kingdom of Voldemort. Hundreds lost their lives defending the borders of Weasley from the dark forces that threatened their kin. Sir Albus Dumbledore, a knight of the highest rank and the first to ride into battle, fought gallantly against the foreign king in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Soldiers on both sides stopped in combat to observe their fierce leaders. Every step was calculated and every swing of a sword was meant to kill.

"You cannot win, Tom," Dumbledore declared as Voldemort was shoved back. "Your greed makes you an unfit king and your hate will turn all of your subjects against you."

A sharp clang pierced the air as their swords met between them.

"Your king and his kingdom have the strength and will of a newborn babe and shall easily crumble under the force of my armies." Thomas swung at Dumbedore's waist, but the experienced knight was out of the blade's way with immense speed. He struck the king in the arm in return.

"Damn you to the depths of Hades!" Thomas cried out. The weapon had not pierced the armor, but the sheer force of the blow caused the king's arm to ache. Before he could utter another curse, Sir Dumbledore raised his sword to where the king's helmet met the neck of his armor.

"Remove your helmet, Thomas!" Dumbledore roared. With painful slowness, the king obeyed. "For crimes against his majesty King Arthur, your armies are banned from the land of Weasley evermore." The opposing army hissed in rage but Dumbledore continued. "For ordering and leading foreigners in such activities as theft, treason, and murder, the king has ordered your death." For the first time, King Thomas looked afraid. "May your soul find mercy in the next life."

Without further delay, the knight swung his sword. Even as the blade sank into his bared neck, the king remained silent. The head of the stone-faced leader thudded to the ground as his body collapsed. The victors shouted in joy, renewed in their fight against the now retreating army.


	2. Chapter 1

For six years the kingdom of Weasley had experienced uninterrupted peace. Across the land citizens had celebrated bountiful harvests, many births, and no one went without. The feudal lords and peasants had coexisted harmoniously from the castle in Burrow, where the king and queen resided, to Hogwarts, the southernmost territory and the birthplace of Sir Dumbledore.

One of the many communities dotting the land rested between a large forest to the west and pastures to the east. The Honeyduke River emerged from the forest and ran east, marking the northern border of the farmlands. The great walled city, Godric's Hollow, was home to a thriving population. Serfs, peasants, artisans, and noblemen frequented the cobbled streets within the high stone walls. The Lord and Lady of the castle, inhabited for centuries by those of the House of Gryffindor, often walked among their people. Economic relations near and far were generally good and public disturbances were few.

One day, the last day of July, excitement and joy filled the castle. The birthday of young Harry, son of Lord James, an exalted knight, and Lady Lily, was being celebrated. The boy was a scamp, early to rise and eager to please, yet occasionally side tracked and always willing to try something new. Already in his few years he had managed to "borrow" his father's horse, climb to the near top of the tallest tree in the wood, and was often found wandering the castle in areas no one expected.

That morning he bounded from his bed before the servants entered the bed chamber. Still in his night dressings and neglecting even socks to cover his feet, Harry fled from the confines of his room. The pitter patter of his footfalls rebounded off the walls and faded away after his little body turned another corner.

"Good morning, Milly." A breathless Harry looked up from the doorway to the pudgy cook working behind a blackened stove.

The woman smiled. "Good morning, young sir. Up before the sun again I see." She moved away from her work space and reached for a pan that had been left to cool. "Still hot," she told him while carefully dumping out a fresh loaf of bread on the counter. As she pulled a long knife through the steaming bread, Harry's mouth began to water.

After sharing the small meal with his favourite servant of the castle, Harry returned to his room to begin the day properly. Two assistants entered minutes after Harry jumped back into bed. They dressed him in layers of red fabric with gold embroidery. He had a white collar beneath his seemingly over-gown and tight red stockings were the only thing covering the space between the upper stocks, the short trousers that scarcely covered the thighs, and pointy, black shoes. He was escorted through the halls of the castle to the Great Hall. Everyone he passed wished him a happy birthday before returning to their chores.

Breakfast with his parents was followed by an address to the people from the balcony overlooking the courtyard, the large open area within the protection of the walls and always filled with people milling about the market stalls. Harry then followed his father to the library where the senior Potter signed documents while Harry read from one of the many large texts. A light lunch followed and then a lesson in Latin. It was about the time that he was asked to translate "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus" that Harry noticed what a nice day it was outside.

Through the ceiling-high windows Harry watched many peasants laboring in the fields. Acres of crops such as wheat and potatoes were being cultivated by dozens of hard workers. To the left he noticed the gently flowing river that he imagined would be very refreshing on a warm day such as this. Twice already he had been caught trying to loosen the confines of his overdone outfit, only to be cinched back into the heavy ensemble.

There was an hour scheduled into Harry's day in which he was supposed to return to his room and prepare for supper. Halfway back to his chambers, he took a right where he should have gone straight. He wasn't questioned by anyone until he passed between the two men standing at the open front doors of the castle.

"Young master Harry," one acknowledged. As he spoke, his breath ruffled a thick mustache. "Where are you off to on your own so late in the day?"

Pulling himself up to his full height which he found helpful in such situations, Harry responded calmly, "I was told by my father to inspect the sturdiness of the front gates, to ensure we are properly defended."

Of course his father had said no such thing, but the two men chuckled happily and waved him off. "Do be careful, lad, and let us know if there are any imperfections."

With forced slowness, Harry walked the cobbled path to the portcullis. The wooden gate showed only the bottom most sharpened edges peeking out from the top of the archway. For a long time Harry likened them to the teeth of a monster, lying in wait for the right passerby. Though he had never seen the gate lowered, he skittered under the points and around the corner to the outside wall. Someone was already there.

Harry ran right into a wall of blonde hair. The girl didn't call out, but turned slowly to look at him. "Hello," she greeted him with a smile.

"My apologies," Harry said quickly. "I didn't realize anyone would be here." He took in her appearance. She was barefoot and wore a dull gray dress that fell to her ankles. Her hair was very pale and glinted a little in the sunshine. In her hands was a small bunch of multi-coloured wildflowers.

"Would you like one?" The girl asked, holding out a yellow flower. It had small thorns running up the stem and the petals were barely open. "I am gathering them for my mother," she went on, even though Harry hadn't asked. He reached out and took the stem from her, but suddenly felt that he ought to give her something in return. He reached into his pocket and pulled from it a kerchief of gold fabric. It lay in his outstretched hand for many seconds before she plucked it from his palm.

"This is very backwards, would you say?" She asked, smoothing out the fabric with her thumb. "Wouldn't a lady give her colours to a knight and he give her a flower?"

Harry was flabbergasted at her implication and blushed. "I'm not a knight," he stammered, looking at the ground.

"Nor am I a lady," she replied calmly, casting her blue eyes on him. "What is your name?"

Harry had never come across someone who didn't know his name before. "I am Harry Potter, son of James Potter of the House of Gryffindor." The well-practiced sentence rolled off his tongue with ease.

The girl nodded, "I thought so." There was no awe in her voice, though her eyes were very bright; Harry wondered if her eyes always sparkled like that. "My name is Luna Lovegood, daughter of Xenophelius. Our house has no name, but we live just there." Luna pointed to the far side of the farmland where the peasant homes were grouped together.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say, but was saved the effort when a man with shoulder length black hair and billowing black robes came out of the gates and spotted Harry. "Potter! What are you doing outside the castle?" The man's eyes flitted to Luna. "And you, silly girl, leave this area and never pluck a flower belonging to your lord and lady again, lest you wish to lose a hand for your thievery."

Luna's gaze fell to the ground and she turned to walk away. Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, to her, but the man grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him back to the castle doors. "Professor Snape, please, we weren't doing any harm."

"Quiet yourself, boy. And take heed, you are not to be wondering about with the peasants, particularly when you have obligations to attend to. Or," he let go of Harry's arm but continued to walk at such a pace the boy had to jog to keep up, "did you think all of this evening's festivities would be halted until you saw fit to grace us with your presence?"

When they arrived at Harry's room and the professor glared down at him once more. "You are filthy from your little romp about the lands. Clean yourself and make haste to the dining hall." Snape turned on his heel and departed without further instruction.

Harry was red-faced with shame and anger and quickly hid himself in his room. The mean professor was the only one to ever speak harshly to Harry. Lord James frequently announced that he didn't like Snape, yet he resided in the castle and tutored Harry under his mother's wishes. The Professor was a wise and learned man, yet his anger and attitude made Harry even more adverse to his studies.

Harry approached the washstand in the corner. When he lifted his hands to the filled basin, he realized the yellow flower was clutched tightly in his left fingers. Very gently, he placed the stem in the water so it could drink. The door opened behind him and a maid stepped in. Harry asked her for something to put the flower in. Only once the flower was standing in a small vase in the window with a fiery sky of the setting sun behind it did Harry prepare to leave for his birthday feast.


	3. Chapter 2

Six years passed and much remained the same in Godric's Hollow. Harry was trained daily in the arts of chivalry, horse riding, and Latin. With each passing day the boy grew in mind and body. He was not yet a man; the sun had set on his eleventh year only three months before. Since then, his training had intensified.

On the seventh day of each week, Harry was free to spend his hours as he pleased. Prior to his sixth birthday, he usually found someone in the castle out play with. For the last six years, every Sunday was spent out of the castle. The only person he truly had to sneak past was the greasy-haired Professor Snape, yet Harry always felt like a spy attempting to escape without a trace. Only once had he been caught.

He would meet Luna in a clearing in the woods to the Northwest of the castle, right next to the river. Sometimes they would climb trees. Sometimes they would swim. Frequently Harry would save the damsel from a hideous monster (usually a large thistle bush).

"Luna?" Harry pushed aside a branch laden with small needles and stepped into the meeting spot. For this particular day, they had agreed to each bring something for lunch. He dropped his cloth-wrapped food on the ground and searched the area. There were no discarded clothes on the ground to suggest she was in the water. By the time Harry came to the conclusion that she was running late, there was a rustling in the trees above. He looked up and saw her face haloed by her golden hair, her body laid out on a long, sturdy branch. "Always with your feet off the ground and your head in the clouds."

Luna dropped a brown sack from her perch and Harry caught it with great dexterity.

"It is a wonder that you are able to hunt as well as you say when you neglect half of the world," she said, nimbly climbing down the branches. Her bare feet hit the ground without a sound. The two shared a laugh and made their way to where Harry had dropped his food.

"It is a lovely day for so late in the year," Luna said as she splayed her skirts out and sat on the grass. Her hand found the stem of a purple wildflower and gently plucked it. "It's rare for the flowers to stay so long."

"You speak as though they have a choice," Harry noted, taking a seat in front of her. "Are they any more than plants that bloom with the promise of spring and wilt with the harshness of winter?"

Luna fingered the edges of the petals. "They have as much a choice to live through every day of their time or to wither up within themselves as you or I. Oft I have seen a bud shriveled in early summer and a man, old beyond his years, hopeless and thinking himself alone despite companions, wasted away too soon, before his next spring."

They were both silent a moment, the babble of the river mingled with their thoughts. "You are quite a remarkable girl, Luna," Harry finally said as he reached for his parcel and untied the corners. "You have a keen perception and speak in poetry." Luna blushed and tucked the flower behind her left ear. They both busied themselves with their lunches.

Harry had chosen to bring with him things that he didn't think Luna would eat often. He asked Milly the day before to assist him. She had prepared a loaf of bread, and when he split it open, he saw a dark swirl of cinnamon inside. There was also a large piece of cooked game bird that was still slightly warm.

When handed her a share of the bread, Luna put it to her nose. "How odd, to put seasonings in bread. Cinnamon is good for headaches, did you know?" Harry shook his head; he had never heard such a thing.

"It's best if you leave it on your tongue. If you swallow it, it travels further away from the pain and is less effective." She seemed very sure of herself, which made Harry chew his first bite very slowly, keeping it near the top of his body as long as possible even though there was no pain there.

Before Luna were two potatoes and what appeared to be sprigs and roots. "What are those?" Harry asked, nodding at the greens. The table in the castle was always covered by meats and many of the crops that were harvested in the fields. He couldn't recall a time when small leaves were anything more than flavour or decoration. Still, he would try them.

Luna deposited half of the greens into Harry's hand. He followed her movements as she picked through hers, looking for some characteristic he didn't know, and placed one in her mouth. They both chewed, Luna staring thoughtfully at Harry and he tried not to let her know that he found the leaf very bitter.

"What was that?" Harry asked, his voice slightly betraying his desire to sound interested rather than appalled. He quickly took a bit of the sweet bread in the hopes that the taste would slide down to his stomach with it.

The dreamy looking girl before him simply shrugged. "I'm not sure exactly. I didn't have much to bring with me and I found them on my way here. It was a bit of an experiment, you see." Harry's eyes quickly examined the shapes of the leaves he had remaining in his hand. They didn't look like anything that had been pointed out as poisonous, but that didn't mean they weren't. Only skilled doctors and woodsmen could be certain. Despite the obvious danger, Luna's smile inexplicably made him feel relaxed, though he did put the rest of the plant away from his food.

"I am to be a knight," Harry suddenly remembered. The news had come very early in the week, and he had forgotten that Luna didn't know; at least, he hadn't told her yet. "I will get my own horse and fight for our lands." Luna still smiled, though her eyes cast a weary glance down. "What is wrong?" Harry asked.

"You speak as though I wasn't aware," Luna answered.

Harry's brow furrowed. "The news came to me on Tuesday, how could you already know?"

Luna's laughter rose up through the trees, but it was hollow. "Harry Potter, son of James Potter, you were destined to be a knight from birth, and that is only the beginning." He was silent, knowing that she always had more to say. "You will go and fulfill your destiny, and do your family and those loyal to you proud." Though she spoke nearly the same words as Harry's father, there was a hint of detachment in them. Finally, she looked up from the grass, to his shining green eyes. "I am very happy for you," she told him sincerely.

Though there seemed to be so much more on her mind, Luna fell silent. Harry didn't want to talk about it anymore and turned the conversation to more casual aspects of their week apart. He spoke of his studies and Luna of her work. He had been introduced to a new gamed called chess, which was much more of a practice of strategy than a game. He described the shapes of the pieces and what each one did. "The purpose," he concluded, "is to take the opponent's king."

"It sounds like an excellent representation of reality," Luna observed, already sounding more chipper than only a few minutes before. "There are small pawns that provide little resistance and are more of a nuisance to bother with destroying. There are various others, the bishops and rooks, which are mobile but are forced into a fixed course. The knights," she paused a moment to look at Harry and tilt her head, "can weave about the battlefield and are not easily cornered. And then the queen," she paused again. "The queen is, astutely, the most powerful and versatile, so it is such a crippling blow to lose one's queen. You would want to protect her above all others, save the king, who is at a loss without his lessers."

Harry sat dumbfounded. He had played the game a number of times already and had not yet made the obvious yet profound connections she had without even seeing the board. "I don't suspect the King would take kindly to such words."

"Would he not?" Luna asked. "Surely he is wise enough to know that without those to follow him he is but a man in a large home. There would be no one for him to rule over or protect. It would be very lonely."

Without warning, Luna stood and adjusted the skirts that were sticking to her legs. "I should be leaving," she said as she reached for her cloth sack.

"Why must you go so suddenly?" Harry asked, his eyes a mixture of curiosity and worry.

"I forgot that I was going to visit my mother today. It is quite a long walk and I would like to be home before the sun sinks low."

Harry stared, not understanding. Did she not see her mother every day? It occurred to him that her parents might be separated for some reason, though what such a reason could be was a mystery to him. "Might I go with you?" he asked. He had no intention of returning to the castle early lest he run into Professor Snape, who was not above giving him spur of the moment lectures, even on Sunday.

Luna pondered his request for only a moment before consenting. "Do you mind if we stop to collect flowers along the way? I am aware that I'm not supposed to pick them, but my mother has always enjoyed them and there are so few left."

"I can pick them for you," Harry offered, packing up his own items. "That way you cannot get in trouble if we are caught." That seemed to suit Luna well. Without another word, she took off walking, following the riverbank east. They emerged from the tree line and kept to the winding path worn in to the bank. Every few steps a violet or white flower could be found in the moist dirt. Harry bent over and quickly uprooted then before gently handing them to Luna.

"Harry," Luna said as Harry spotted another. "We should leave some in the ground." His eyebrows came together in confusion. "We have gathered more than enough, and others may want some too, at least to look at." They were only half way to the cluster of peasant houses and Luna had to use both hands to hold all of the flowers.

Harry hadn't thought of that. Looking back on their path, it seemed remarkably barren; he had picked every single stem they passed. "We will leave the rest then," Harry said, hoping it would please her. Luna smiled quickly and walked on. Past the fields, all nearly reaped. Past the houses, families returning home after a hard day's labour. On and on they walked, further east than Harry had ever been.

"I didn't know anyone lived so far away from the castle." Nervousness edged his voice. What if Luna's mother was dangerously ill and had been sent away?

"No one does."

Harry's concern didn't slow her progress, despite the sudden incline of a hill. Rather than ask, Harry tried to piece together what she could possibly mean. They reached the crest of the grassy knoll and his answer was spilled out before him. Dozens of wooden crosses stood in uneven rows marking the dead. Some were a little crooked from the years under the elements, but the impression stopped him in his tracks. Luna pressed on, and Harry nearly stumbled down the side of the mound to catch up to her.

This place felt cold and unfamiliar. The thick dirt of the burial ground stuck to his shoes and made each step heavy. There were names carved by unskilled hands on each piece of wood. Some seemed very new while others were too rotten to read. It took only a moment for Harry to realize why he felt so out of place. All of the members of his family were buried deep below the castle in carefully crafted stone coffins. They were all respected in life and so in death, not left to rot in a forgotten plot of land.

"Here she is." Luna stopped and Harry was quick enough to only press against her rather than knock her over. Her blue eyes, suddenly void of the brightness he was used to, looked down on a mostly flat space with a still upright marker at the top. There were many brown, dried flowers already there, a testament to how frequently Luna visited. She bent forward and spread the many blooms they had collected along the length of the grave.

It seemed rude to say anything to Luna about a woman he didn't know, a woman he hadn't even known was dead. How long? He remembered many occasions when Luna spoke fondly of her mother. Had she already passed away by then? He stood very still with his hands behind his back as he had done many years ago at the funeral of his grandfather.

"You were away," Luna said suddenly, bringing her face up to look at Harry. A shallow pool of tears filled her eyes. "Your family was traveling. There was talk of negotiations, introductions, political matters that a young girl cares nothing of." She was silent and still Harry had nothing to say. "I don't blame you, but you were gone so long and when you returned, you had so much to say of your travels. I couldn't bring myself to dampen your happy mood. It was infectious." She looked up at the clear sky, remembering. "It was easier to deal with when I was around you, almost as if, because you didn't know, it wasn't real."

The memories seemed to fade from her eyes and the soft smile fell. Luna looked once more at the grave and wiggled her toes in the dark dirt. Still no words came to Harry, but he reached out and took her hand. They stood for what may have been an hour or more, hands clasped and hanging low between their bodies.

A sudden, harsh breeze blew through the cemetery and caused Harry to look up. The sun was heading toward the horizon and would be gone within an hour. "We must go, Luna." No one would notice their absence as a pair, but each had people waiting on them at home. It was also dangerous to be out after dark, especially in a place that made him so uneasy.

Luna let out a heavy sigh, one that could only hint at the heaviness of her heart, and looked to Harry. "Even though you know now, it still feels better." She didn't say another word on their walk back to the farm lands.

She pulled her hand from his before they were close to the houses, even though most of the workers were already inside. Harry grabbed it again quickly and brought it to his lips.

"Until next time, my lady."

"I am no lady," she reminded him.

"And I am not yet a knight." He smiled and walked toward the castle gates.


	4. Chapter 3

The seasons passed as they had from the dawn of time. Harry Potter excelled in the skills of knighthood, eager to prove himself as more than a boy blessed with noble birth. He rode the fastest horse in the land, Nimbus. He won tournaments in archery, sword fighting, and jousting. Frequently he received tokens of affection and a letter or two from admirers, all of whom he thanked with a flushed face but gently explained that he could not return their fondness.

His heart, he would only admit to himself, belonged to an angelic peasant girl he had known for fifteen years. Harry suspected his mother knew. He had worried she did when she took Luna on as a servant in the castle. Perhaps Lady Lily understood her son's emotions. Perhaps she wanted to prove to Harry that the girl was nothing more than a servant, beneath him. Regardless of her motivation, the Lady of the castle had given Harry something that he had long been denied: the chance to see Luna whenever he pleased.

Although the castle was large, with rooms and items enough to spend a year cleaning and not make it to everything, Harry could always find Luna nearby after a lesson or when he left his bedroom. More than once he had spotted her through a window, looking down on his training with Nimbus. There was the minor flaw that they could no longer disappear together on Sundays, as his mother was too keen not to notice. Instead, they spoke briefly in corridors and left hidden notes for one another in his room, one of the spaces Luna was responsible for cleaning, much to Harry's chagrin.

Harry never told Luna of his deep feelings for her for two reasons. For one, he was strongly convinced that she would never return his love, at least not as anything more than friends. Never did she show the awed enthusiasm of the women who approached him as he walked in the castle courtyard. She was the same loyal friend he had always known and cherished. Secondly, and more importantly, if by some miracle she did have feelings for him, it would only hurt them both when they were reminded that they could never be. They were two very different people who crossed paths but were never expected, never allowed, to follow a route together.

The worst part was having to leave Godric's Hollow. At least once each month Harry rode to Hogwarts to speak with Sir Albus Dumbledore and other champions of Weasley. While no direct attacks had been made on their territory, reports of Slytherin riders and spies had reached even the ears of the northern-most citizens. It had been decided at the last meeting that a representative would be sent into Slytherin territory to request an audience with the King in hopes of heading off potential tension and conflict.

Gathered around a table where a large map of the kingdom was splayed out, five captains of the guards for separate castles, including Burrow, listened as Dumbledore spoke. His crooked and aged finger traced the serpentine path that linked all of the sightings.

"Why now?" the man to Harry's right asked gruffly. He crossed his arms over his wide chest. His muscles bulged enough that Harry had to take a small step to the side. The man's shaggy black beard hung all the way down to where his forearms crossed.

Dumbledore pierced the large man with his strikingly blue eyes. "No explanations have become apparent to us, Sir Rubeus." He looked back to the map, his brow furrowed and the creases in his forehead, deepened by age and war, marked his worry. "It feels different than before. My best assumption is that their king has foolishly decided that now, after two decades of peace, is the time to stir the cauldron, if you will."

"We should make the first move!" A man only slightly taller than Harry with shoulder length, curly black hair leaned over the table. Harry knew him; Sirius Black from Grimmauld, the easternmost castle, near the ocean. "We could have all of our troops along the border within a fortnight, if not less, and ride through their lands, covering the countryside and taking their towns."

Dumbledore shook his head. His silence only enraged Sirius further. "Our inaction will only endanger our citizens, Albus, you must know this!"

"Enough." Dumbledore spoke with such finality that Harry felt he had been yelled at. "Irrationality, hasty decisions, and a callous outlook are dangerous to our citizens, Sir Sirius. We will conduct ourselves as we always have, with dignity and compassion." No one else was willing to challenge Albus' leadership.

At that moment, the double doors to the room flew open. A thin man with wispy gray hair fell to the ground. Only then did Harry notice the blood running down the messenger's back. Sir Albus was the first to reach them man, kneeling to help him sit up. The man groaned with the movement but was able to speak, his voice barely a whisper. "They are coming," he choked out. "They are coming." His chest fell with his last words and he moved no more.

Despite the lifeless man in his arms, Dumbledore spoke with authority. "Sirius, Rubeus, Harry, and I shall ride to meet the encroaching forces. Remus and Alastor shall ride to the nearby castles. Alert every warrior that they are needed. Go now."

While those told to stay out of the fight were clearly displeased with the order, no one wasted precious seconds arguing. The four remaining knights called for their armor. Harry only briefly noticed the body of the messenger being carried away as the plates of his armor were set into place.

The horses were prepared by the time the men made it outside. Harry's hands fumbled with the saddle and he was last to leave the courtyard. He kicked Nimbus lightly and soon caught up.

The thunder of horse hooves would have drowned out any words they could have spoken. Harry tried to focus on everything he had been taught. Suddenly the lessons all seemed to be little more than child's play. He was surrounded by men that had been in the last war, the year of his birth. His hands had to re-grip the reins every few minutes. He leaned forward, eager to arrive at their destination.

It was a great relief when the small group crossed over the river that separated the two territories. He let out a held breath, taking some peace in knowing the fight would not take place on Weasley land.

If it had not been for a stream of light filtering through the trees to the left and reflecting off a bit of metal, the men on horseback would have fallen deep into the trap laid out for them. Harry's eyes picked up the reflection and he immediately veered in that direction, drawing his sword. At first the man hiding in the brush, the soldier that wasn't hidden well enough, remained still. When it became obvious that Harry had no intention of slowing down or turning back, the man let out a cry, something between a shout and a shriek, and tried to draw his own weapon.

The other knights had stopped when they heard the shout. It took only a fraction of a second for the other hidden enemies to show themselves, already given away by the one Harry had pinned up against a tree with the tip of his blade. Sirius had a wild glint in his eye; a fight was exactly what he had been hoping for. He drew his sword as well and picked out a few targets.

Before any blood could be shed, Dumbledore called out, "Bring forth your commander." His weapon was still safely tucked away and he was surveying the men that surrounded them, looking for the one that could control the rest. It was silent. Harry's eyes darted back and forth between his captive and Dumbledore.

Finally, a man on a brilliant white horse came through the edge of the circle and smiled wistfully at the knights in the center. "Dumbledore," he greeted with mock civility. The man was not dressed for battle. He wore fine garments with delicate embroidery. The fabrics were black and a silver snake was poised on his chest. He had straight, bright blonde hair that fell past his shoulders.

"Lucius." Both Dumbledore and his mount were perfectly still with a calm that only came with experience. Rubeus and Sirius worked to keep their nervous horses from moving. Lucius and Dumbledore stared at each other with emotionless faces. "Why have you brought us here, Lucius?" Albus finally asked.

"I neither requested your presence nor demanded an audience. No word was spoken to bring you on to my land."

"I have found that actions speak much louder than words," Dumbledore said calmly. "And you have shown me, by way of allowing your men to cross our boarders and sending back an injured messenger, that you wish for nothing more than contact. So here we are."

Harry felt uneasy about their present situation. Although he had one man cowering before him, there were at least two dozen still half hidden in the bushes encircling his companions. The knights had the upper hand of being on horses, but he knew it was not their intention to run. Nor was it likely that these were the only forces brought to the battle. Harry wondered briefly if they were losing precious time, being further encircled by the enemy.

The corners of Lucius' mouth curved upward. "Ah, that, I suppose, is my responsibility, though not of my doing. Draco?" Another man approached the inner circle on a nearly all black horse. His hair was an equal shade of blinding white as the older man's. "My son, you see, has been named captain of the guard. Perhaps he was exercising more power than he is actually allowed, unknowingly of course." Draco had a look of pure smugness that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

"And the welcoming party?" Albus motioned toward those that formed the circle. "Surely you weren't expecting us if it was merely an accident."

If Lucius had another silver tongued response at the ready, no one ever heard it. An arrow whizzed through the air and stuck in the skin visible between the armour plates at Dumbledore's elbow. Shouts erupted and Lucius's men began running toward the three in the middle. Harry looked back at his captive only to realize the man was bent over and grabbing his sword off the ground. Harry spurred Nimbus, knocking over the man as he rushed to join the others.

The horses were rearing up, angered and frightened by the attackers; Hagrid's mount actually knocked a man down with his flailing front hooves. Dumbedore yelled. He had pulled the arrow from his arm and was swinging wildly at a man who appeared to have no armor at all. The man fell to the ground, a gash from his hip to his shoulder seeping blood. The Slytherins were poorly armed, but there were enough to pose a threat and it would have been dangerous to try to jump over them lest they raise their weapons and slice the horses' bellies.

There was a moment's pause as a rumbling sound wound through the trees and shook the ground. Harry's stomach lurched when he realized it was hoof-beats. There were others, no doubt better armed and armored. Lucius and Draco had already steered themselves away from the battle, though it would be over quickly. When the horsemen broke through from the back, Harry was prepared to clash swords. What he wasn't prepared for were the fifty knights that crashed through the northern half of the circle, taking down the Slytherin attackers.

The newcomers were from Weasley; Alastor or Remus must have reached them very quickly, although it was no secret that as a whole they were the fastest army the lands had. The warriors from Hogsmeade, a small castle only five miles from Hogwarts, had arrived to turn the tide of battle.

Harry was immediately reminded of those that retreated, and turned Nimbus south in pursuit. The sounds of the fight faded quickly in the dense wood and he relied on his eyesight rather than his ears to find his target.

The woods became dense and much darker. The roots of the trees sprung up in the spaces between trunks and bush, making galloping impossible. Harry stilled, straining to hear over Nimbus' heavy breathing. There was neither a rustle of leaves nor the snapping of a twig; he was alone.

Suddenly a roar ripped through the trees, "Draco!" It was not a call of sadness or loss, but of anger. Lucius was obviously unhappy with his son, but why?

The answer came swiftly – Draco was upon him. The pale man had jumped from a tree branch above and wrapped his arms around Harry, forcing him to the ground. The hilt of his sword slipped from Harry's hand and Nimbus, startled by the sudden action, ran back the way they had come, leaving Harry pinned under the weight of his attacker.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco sneered. Harry looked to his right, seeing that his sword was too far for him to reach, but not too far from Draco if he stretched. He looked up into Draco's eyes, gray as a wintery sky and so full of rage. "The celebrated young knight that has seen no battle and felt no loss." Draco couldn't have been more than a year older than Harry, yet he spoke the words as though he had lived to see enough. His hand moved near his boot and Harry realized this was his only chance.

With great effort, Harry rolled the two of them to the side, pinning Draco against a tree trunk. The man cried out as his back was smashed into the uneven roots and his arm was crushed below Harry's knee.

"Why did you tempt us here, Draco? What could you gain from such provocation and a loss of men?"

"Fear, Potter. Even now, you have men riding to every one of your cities, warning them of an invasion. It will happen again and again, until one day it's true and you will be attempting to handle soldiers that have been falsely called to arms and serfs that don't believe you because for weeks, months, maybe even years they will have lived in fear." Draco smiled up at Harry.

"They have nothing to fear." Without further comment, Harry rolled away from Draco and scooped up his long sword. It was four times the length of the dagger hidden in Draco's boot and Harry was over him before his injured arm could go for the puny blade. "So long as the kingdom of Weasley has men to fight for them, they shall never be afraid. And they will always respond to the summonses of duty, no matter how often they are called. For years we so have we defended our borders and so we shall, with honor and without asking more than to fight for our King, for there is no greater reward." Green eyes stared down gray with harshness unusual for Harry. "Go. Now."

Draco considered Harry's order, testing to see if he meant it, before scrambling backwards. Dirt and dried leaves clung to his now tangled hair and fine clothes. Harry watched the man turn tail and run. He thought he heard the faint cry of "father!" after some time. The young knight sheathed his sword and turned to face north, to return to battle, only to find Sir Dumbledore atop his horse not fifteen feet away.

"You let him go," Dumbledore observed.

Harry's cheeks burned red. Even though Draco was clearly misguided, he had been right about Harry's inexperience with war; he did not want to kill anyone he didn't have to. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be, young man." Harry looked up, confused. Dumbledore dismounted, though he still towered over Harry. "A man's life is undervalued, especially by another wielding a weapon. It was nobler for you to let him live, to give him a chance to rectify his ways."

"And if he doesn't, sir?"

A quiet moment passed between them. "Those who repeat their mistakes find just ends eventually."

Harry wanted to argue, but the words didn't form.

"I believe," Dumbledore said, gracefully mounting his horse, "Nimbus is waiting for you near the river."

Harry walked alongside Dumbedore's copper red steed in silence until they made it back to the safety of the flowing territorial border. Nimbus was waiting obediently on the other side, chewing on a bit of overgrown grass.

"What shall I tell the Lord and Lady?" Harry asked before the elder rode off.

After a moment of thought Dumbledore replied, "Make them aware that there is no immediate danger; however, we shall be more on guard."

It was the same message Harry had been told to deliver to before. It did not feel the same, at the very least it felt less honest, but Harry nodded. He would not disobey.


	5. Chapter 4

The report was given to the Lord and Lady as instructed, without a hint of tension or urgency. They were both pleased and let Harry leave. Something ate at him as he exited the large room and passed those seeking an audience. He directed his feet away from the library, where he was supposed to study independently for an hour, and began to search the corridors. He had never skipped a study hour before, but Harry knew the feeling inside him would only swell and torment his conscience until he was honest with someone.

It took great effort not to run down each stretch of hallway. Harry kept his face as expressionless as possible while his eyes darted back and forth, scanning all of the rooms visible through open doors. He felt frantic as he searched the first two floors. Skipping steps to reach the next level faster, he nearly flattened the person he collided with.

"My apologies, Harry," a soft voice spoke. "Are you running from something? Should I be running too?" Luna had backed against the bannister of the staircase, but her eyebrows came together in curiosity.

"No, Luna, not a thing." Relief coated his words. Harry looked around him and saw no one, but voices were being carried through the hall from below. "Come with me." Unthinking, he grabbed her hand and led the way up two more sets of stairs and to a large tapestry. He looked again and found no one else nearby. Without an explanation, he pulled back the edge to reveal an opening in the wall just wide enough for a person to fit through.

"I've never been told to clean this room," Luna said with only the faintest amount of surprise.

Harry laughed. "Well, you wouldn't. I wonder how many people even know it exists. I discovered it by accident." At the end of the dark hallway there was a perfectly round room with a small circular window near the ceiling. "I have never seen anyone use it and I have no idea what it could have been for." There was no furniture or signs of use. It looked to be an accidental addition to the castle, a forgotten room.

Luna circled the small space once, looking at the walls and then returned to where Harry stood in the center. "Are you certain we aren't hiding from something? This seems to be a good place to do so if we needed to."

Harry recalled that he hadn't yet told Luna why he went looking for her. "Actually, I just wanted to talk to you in private for a moment. You see…" He launched in to the tale of his trip to the south and the fight that broke out in the woods. Luna nodded politely and gasped when he got to the part about Draco jumping down on him. With each word Harry felt the weight of the information leave him, and he ended with, "I feel as though I have lied to my own parents for not telling them the whole truth."

Luna thought on that a moment, looking from the ceiling to Harry and back. "I think you are a very good knight for having such a noble heart." A smile broke across her previously serious face. "How many times have I told you to keep your eyes up?" She put her hand gently on his shoulder and smiled. "You could have been hurt."

She hadn't offered much to help him, but Harry realized that wasn't what he had been after. The only thing he could possibly do was return to his parents and tell them everything, which might lead to the fear Draco had mentioned. He had sought out Luna in order to have someone to confide in, not to speak strategy with. "Thank you," he told her.

They stood together for a long moment, long enough for another secret Harry had been keeping to rise to the surface and nearly spill out his lips.

Suddenly, Luna's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, Harry, I must get back to my duties." She sidestepped him gracefully and disappeared through the short tunnel and out of the tapestry.

Harry vaguely felt the sting of the missed opportunity, but he pushed it away and stormed out of the secret room once he was certain she was out of sight of the entrance.

The evening was usually a subdued affair unless there was a festival or holiday to celebrate. Harry sat across a long table from his father. His mother sat on Lord James' right. Occasionally they were joined by Professor Snape, but Harry was pleased that the overgrown bat-like man was absent the evening of his return. In fact, supper was remarkably pleasant for a full week.

Seven days after the confrontation in the south, the greasy-haired instructor graced the Potter family with his presence, bringing with him more than an atmosphere of gloom.

"I have word from His Majesty," Snape said, looking at Lord James before panning his gaze over to Harry. "It would seem your son has attracted his notice." Snape's tone dripped with menace that caused Harry's stomach to tighten. He gripped the chicken leg in his hand so firmly that his thumb dug into the tender meat. Had word of his cowardice in the forest reached King Arthur?

"It is my understanding," Snape continued, "that he wishes to meet this brave young knight, who has been praised by none other than Sir Albus himself."

Dumbledore had given him away! Blood coursed through Harry's ears, making it impossible for him to comprehend the next few words that were spoken between his tutor and his father. Why would the old man do such a thing? If it had been so bad, he could have pursued Draco himself. And to let Harry believe everything would be alright; it broke the core rules of chivalry and being kind to your brother-in-arms.

The hall had fallen silent and Harry realized he must have missed something directed at him. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, could you please repeat that?"

Lord James announced that Harry would leave first thing in the morning, accompanied by five guards on horseback. "It is a little less than a two day's journey," James finished, reaching for his goblet. "You should be back within a week."

If they expected him to return then he wouldn't face death, at least not in a foreign city before dozens of people he didn't know. Harry nodded, his parched mouth unable to form words, and looked back to his half eaten dinner. His stomach suddenly felt full of lead and he couldn't make himself take another bite. He was silent for the remainder of the meal, until his father bid them all goodnight.

That evening, Luna was present in his dreams. They were very young again, no more than five and six years old, and just outside the castle walls. In his hand was a daffodil, which he held out for her to take. She did, and in return she handed him a yellow flower, one that attempted to mimic the colour of her golden hair. He turned it in his hands and saw that it was a tulip. When he looked back up, she was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I'm having so much fun rereading and posting this old story! I realize the chapter I uploaded today was short compared to the others, so I thought I'd add another. I don't really like it when people say things like "I'll post another chapter after I receive 10 reviews." If you like the story, leave a review. If you're on your phone and it's a pain in the booty, don't worry about it. I hope you're all enjoying yourself though.

The Castle of Burrow was large enough to contain all of Godric's Hollow at least five times. The walls not only contained areas of commerce, but dwellings, stables, shops, inns, bakeries, and an uncountable number of people. Everyone from beggars in rags to foreign officials in strange clothing walked the well-paved streets. The six riders earned neither notice nor assistance as they entered the city.

"This way," Harry finally said, leading Nimbus through the people and up to the castle doors. Unlike the ones at home, they were not sitting open.

Two stout men in armor straightened up as Harry approached.

"What is your business here?" the one on the left asked rudely.

"I am Harry Potter of Gryffindor, I was summoned by His Majesty." It was a strange thing to say, having not actually spoken to the King and having no letter of summons.

The one on the right eyed them suspiciously. "Your horses need to be stabled and your weapons will be confiscated."

They were given quick directions and were soon being led into the castle by three escorts in plated armor. The five men who had ridden with Harry were told to wait outside the final set of doors, while he was sent through. They made no protests, but Harry gave them one last look before entering the throne room alone. He heard the doors close behind him.

The throne room was draped in orange cloth. Behind the king's seat was a coat of arms bearing a weasel. Harry would have continued to appraise the decoration if the man on the throne had not stood up. King Arthur was a man in his late forties with severe balding: only a few thin strands of red hair remained below the golden crown that hid the shiny top of his head. He looked down at Harry only a moment before he smiled widely. "Sir Harry, so good you could come on such short notice."

If this man were truly cross with Harry's lack of action, he was very good at hiding it. Harry moved to kneel but King Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder before he reached the floor. "Oh no, dear boy, we have far too much to discuss to waste time on such things. Please, come with me."

As the two men walked, Harry became aware that Sir Albus had not actually told the king anything that would get him in trouble. On the contrary, King Arthur seemed very moved by Harry's willingness to let the younger Malfoy live. "After all, Harry, from the sounds of it, he was not much different from you." That sentiment struck a nerve in Harry; they didn't seem at all similar in his eyes. But the King had continued walking and was talking very quickly.

"A man such as yourself must be considering a family. You have no siblings I am told."

"No, sire," Harry responded, though his mind was still on the first half of the thought. He had not given much thought into a family even though he knew many men his age who had been married for five or more years.

"Yes, I suspect you have been waiting for the perfect woman." Luna's faced danced quickly in Harry's mind, but he pushed it away. She may have been perfect, there was no fault he had found, but Harry suspected the king was not going in that direction. How could he possibly know of a peasant girl that didn't even live in his city?

"My daughter, Ginevra, she is nearly twenty one and still has found no suitable husband." Harry's feet became rooted to the ground as though the floor had bonded to the soles of his shoes.

"My Lord?"

Arthur turned and looked back at Harry, smiling. "I am convinced that she will be most pleased with you. She has turned down every eligible man from here to the Far East, but I believe that you may just be the answer to my prayers."

Arthur turned again and continued on his previous path. Harry quickly moved to catch up. "I am deeply honoured, Your Majesty, but what makes you certain that she will smile upon me more favourably than the others?"

The king simply smiled. "I think I know my daughter, Mr. Potter. She is beautiful, but she has an opinion and frequently makes it known; a trait of her mother's I am afraid." They stopped outside a door which the king knocked on. "Ginevra, dear, would you please come out?"

This all felt incredibly unorthodox to Harry. He had not been required to kneel before his king, he had just been offered a marriage to the princess, and rather than meet her in the throne room, they had walked all the way to what Harry realized, once the door opened, were her bed chambers. "M-my Lady," he quickly stammered out.

The princess was breathtaking, with stunning red hair pulled back into small braids that were piled high on her head. Her gown was mostly black with white trimming and puffed sleeves. Around her neck hung a silver chain with a large green stone dangling from it. She offered Harry only the slightest curtsey and stared at her father expectantly, though her features remained soft.

"Dearest, this is Sir Harry of Gryffindor. He hails from Godric's Hollow." There was a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of the lady's eye. Harry wondered if he had imagined it. "He is a brave and honourable man who has fought for our kingdom. I have offered him your hand." It was clear from the King's voice that even though the offer was on the table, the princess had at least some power to remove it.

She looked at Harry for only a moment. Something, perhaps recognition, flashed in her eyes. "It would be an honour to be the wife of such a man."

Harry's heart thudded in his chest as his mind slowly worked to catch up with the situation that had just unfolded. Seeing herself unnecessary, Ginevra backed into her chambers and closed the door.

King Arthur's face was alight with joy. "I knew it! All of those offers from rich men from distant lands, that wasn't what she desired at all." At Harry's puzzled expression, the king lowered his voice and took a step closer. "I have spent many years as a married man, Sir Harry. I knew that the only way for the man who would follow in my footsteps to be a successful monarch would be if he were happily married. And believe me when I say that the amount of happiness in a marriage is greatly dependent upon the happiness of the wife." He gave Harry a wink and then moved back down the hall toward the throne room. "Come, dear boy, we have papers to draw up."


	7. Chapter 6

Despite the fact that the other horses were no match for Nimbus, Harry couldn't bring himself to slow down on his journey home. At times, when he had ridden so far ahead that he could not see his troop, he would double back until they were alongside him, and then he would shoot off again. He could not leave his party behind, even if there was no danger in being caught alone. That night his sleep was restless, filled with dreams of vivid colours; sunny yellow, deep red, fiery orange, and dark green. Twice he woke in the dark and fought hard to fall back to sleep.

On the second day he was much less eager to return home. Harry's traveling partners could not understand his sudden shift in mood or why he claimed that Nimbus needed to break so frequently. "I rode him too hard yesterday," he lied, avoiding their eyes. It was sundown by the time they took their horses to the stable.

His mother and father were already at the dinner table with tense expressions on their faces. As soon as Harry strode in James stood and walked toward him.

"What news do you bring, son? Why were you thus summoned?"

Harry passed his father with only a quick glance in apology. On the blank space of table where Snape usually ate, he carefully laid down a scroll and yanked off the ribbon. His hands trembled as he backed away and left room for his parents to read on their own. Lily put a hand to her mouth and James smiled. It was a declaration of marriage with the seal of King Arthur stamped into the bottom.

The next morning every able bodied person was gathered in the courtyard directly below the balcony of the castle. Whispers and shouts traveled back and forth across the crowd: some eager, others confused. Criers had carried the message through the streets and pastures: everyone was to stop their activities immediately and congregate before the castle. Women clung to their children and men cast wary glances at one another.

High above them all, waiting for the appointed time, were the Potters. Lord James approached the bannister that ringed the balcony, Harry at his right. The Lady stood on his other side and one step back. The noise that had been rising from the streets was silenced by their appearance. The eyes of every member of each family looked up in wonder.

"People of Godric's Hollow," James shouted, opening his arms in welcome, "today is a day of celebration." An almost unison sigh escaped the lips of those that had feared the worst. "My son, Sir Harry, has visited His Majesty, King Arthur. In a mere fortnight, he shall be married to the king's only daughter, princess Ginevra." A deeper silence than before, one of awe and disbelief, was the audience's response. "Harry Potter shall be Prince of Weasley."

Thunderous cheers erupted from below. James smiled at their excitement, but Harry knew there was more to it. Ginevra wasn't just the king's only daughter, she was the king's only child, a miracle after six boys that had not made it past infancy. Upon her twelfth birthday, the king had announced that his only living child would be heir to the throne, making her husband the monarch after her father passed. It was neither polite nor a good idea to mention King Arthur's eventual death, but it was certainly playing on the minds of all the citizens gathered in the courtyard.

Harry waved and smiled as best he could. The prospect of being Prince, or King, shook him more than he had been willing to admit to either the king or his father. He thought the princess very beautiful, with skin so pale, hair so radiant, and eyes that he could remember perfectly when he closed his own. However, he knew nothing of her, not of her likes, her passions, and certainly not her heart. There must have been a reason that she had rejected all of her past suitors, especially those that approached her offering more than the title of Knight. And he hadn't had more than a few seconds to himself to think of what her logic could be.

Lord James rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, knocking him out of his stupor. The crowd was still bubbling with the news, but the peasants were exiting through the gates quickly, hoping to make up for lost time at the beginning of their work day. Through the mottled gray and brown, Harry noticed a distinct streak of sunny blonde hair darting through the crowd. She pushed past the others as fast as she could and turned west when she made it out of the walls, away from the fields and toward the forest. Without thinking, Harry turned and ran.

Harry stuck to the stairs he knew in the corner of the castle, ones that were only used by servants that wished to stay out of the way. He skipped two or three steps at a time, passing two shocked ladies that pressed themselves against the wall as he passed. Before the courtyard had even cleared, he was amid the crowd of bodies, trying to force himself through the entrance gate that seemed too tiny for everyone. With some effort and apology, he slinked through the workers and ran toward the tree line.

Once Harry was inside the forest, he felt lost. Luna could have gone in any direction from here; she knew the forest as well as Harry and was unafraid. His feet led him straight and he strained his eyes to catch another glimpse of her shimmering hair. For half an hour he searched, calling out her name every few steps. His voice echoed through the trees, but there was never a response. Fear gripped him as he considered the possibility that she had been found by someone else. His pace quickened.

After wandering in circles and coming up with nothing, Harry turned toward the river. His throat was hoarse from shouting and his mouth was parched. The trees curved around an open meadow right next to the river. It wasn't until Harry stepped on a blooming purple wildflower that he realized where he was. How could he have forgotten the space where they had spent so many Sunday afternoons together?

Harry swiveled his head from left to right and then ran to the bank of the river. She wasn't anywhere. With a heavy heart, he sank to his knees. How could he have allowed his father to make the announcement without telling Luna first himself? He knew the reason; he was a coward. He hadn't wanted to see her reaction. He didn't want her to smile the way she would and tell him that she was happy for him, that it was wonderful. It certainly didn't feel wonderful. And worse, he let himself briefly think, what if she had burst out crying, telling him she didn't want him to go or be with another woman?

A heavy sigh escaped him, and Harry bent forward to take a drink. It was only in the rippled reflection of the gently moving water that he saw it. He stared at the water, wondering if it was a mere trick of light, then he turned his head, searching the tree branches until he saw it, saw her. Curled into a ball on one of the highest branches of a nearby maple, half hidden by the colourful leaves, was the girl he had been searching for.

"Luna!" Harry exclaimed, racing to the base of the tree. She didn't seem to hear him. "Luna, what are you doing up there? Haven't you heard me calling your name?" Again she didn't reply. He took a step back and appraised the tree. Three men holding hands would have barely encircled it. The limbs were frequent, but the bark was rough. He stared down at his attire, it was a special outfit meant for days when important announcements were made. It would be ruined before he made it half way up, and that was if his shoes didn't cause him to slip.

"I'm coming up there," he warned, immediately bending over to undo the buckle that held his shoe in place. "Excuse my impropriety."

It took a few minutes to remove the garments himself. He hadn't paid any attention when they were being put on, and the strings in the back were hard to reach with the poufs encasing his arms. By the time he was ready to climb, he had on only a layer of undergarments and short trousers. He supposed his mother would appreciate the kindness he was paying to the special clothes that were left forgotten on the ground.

For the entire trip up the tree, Harry cast nervous glances at Luna's stiff form, wondering if she would move at all, either to meet or to evade him. Yet she held her perch and, when he finally reached the branch that was at the same level as hers, Harry noticed that she wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes, glassy and surrounded by red, puffy lids, were gazing through the nearby trees into the distance.

"Why are you up here, Luna?" Harry eventually asked when she continued to act as though he wasn't there.

There wasn't an immediate answer, yet Harry had resolved to sit in that tree half-dressed until he garnered some response. Thankfully Luna gave in after only a minute of contemplation. "I find the world more forgiving up here."

It wasn't the answer he had been expecting, thus Harry had no reply.

"Congratulations on your impending wedding." There was no cheer in her voice. For the first time in his life, Harry didn't believe her words.

"Is that why you're up here? Because I am to be married? This isn't a very good spot to watch from." His humor didn't improve her mood any, at least not enough to show on her face. "What is it, Luna? You can tell me." He reached a hand out and placed it on her shoulder. "If it's about the wedding, I'll make sure you're there. You can sit wherever you'd like." Surely it wasn't too great of a request, to have a peasant girl at a royal wedding.

Luna looked down at her knees, shook her head and, to Harry's horror, began to cry. He kept his hand on her trembling shoulder.

"How can you not understand, Harry? Why would I want to be there to witness my worst nightmare?" He stared at her with sincere confusion. Luna shook her head again and looked up. "I've been so blessed thus far to grow up with you, to live in your castle, to see you up through your twenty second year without another woman even though you are so admired. How foolish I have been to know that this day was coming and yet hope that it would wait just one day more."

Finally she looked back at him, her eyes pleading. "I have no claim to you, no right to want you, nor any hold over you, but you captured my affection when I was mere child and I have since had no control over my own heart." She bit her lower lip and gave Harry the impression she had more to say. He guessed at what it could be, what she would ask if she thought she had any right to say so. Harry answered for her.

"I don't have a choice, Luna," he said quietly, looking down to the ground below him. Her eyes, formerly something he enjoyed gazing into, seemed to clench the very heart that beat in his chest. "But," it took every bit of self-control he had to look her in those beautiful eyes, "if I did, I would choose you." It wasn't enough, not for either of them, but that was the way of the world.

Tears clouded Luna's eyes, and before she could turn away Harry cupped the side of her face and brushed away the one droplet that had escaped. Then, unthinking, he leaned his face forward and gently pressed his lips to hers.


	8. Chapter 7

The next two weeks were difficult for Harry. Luna remained out of sight no matter how desperately he hoped to see her. The only indication at all that she was still in the castle was the way the pillows were arranged on his bed. One week in the middle of the previous winter, Luna had been ill for two days. On those days his pillows were perfectly straight, a smooth line running along the edges; Luna always pulled up the inside corners, for whatever reason she had never explained. He sighed as he entered his room the night before he was to leave. She had been there, but she again ignored the letter he had left for her. It sat on the night stand, bold as brass, with the seal unbroken.

The traveling party riding to Burrow had quadrupled in size from Harry's last trip. Along with the guards were his parents, their servants, a few well-to-do members of society, and those who had a horse and could afford to spend the day away. Harry wanted nothing more than to get the whole ordeal over with; well, almost nothing. Yet Lady Lily refused to go much faster than a happy trot as doing so rattled her carriage uncomfortably. The caravan left three days before the wedding and arrived just before nightfall on the eve of the event.

King Arthur seemed not at all worried about the late hour and ordered a guard to escort everyone to the dining hall where he and his family were feasting. James was seated to the right of the king, Lily on his right and across from Queen Molly, and Harry sat next to his mother, facing Ginevra. The princess appeared more radiant than before, her gown for the evening a soft cream with golden accents that lit up her face. Harry's breath caught for a moment as he stared. She wore the same necklace as before, even though the silver and green stood out harshly.

It was hard for Harry to eat anything, even after such a long journey. Between the twisting feeling in his innards, the lovely creature before him, and the attention grabbing entertainment around the table, it was difficult to concentrate on the meal. He had already been fooled by the jesters; two men who looked astoundingly alike save for one was missing an ear. At first Harry assumed it was a trick until he saw them both side by side.

Harry was very thankful that his father monopolized the conversation with the king and Ginevra stayed silent during the meal. He could not think of a single thing to say when the king was so cheerful and the princess was so very emotionless. His mind wandered frequently and he had to forcefully shove the thoughts of home and of _her_ away. It was a great relief when the king rose from his chair and wished them all a good night.

It was a fruitless wish. Harry was uncomfortable in the bed that was made strangely, with sheets that were too warm due to too many coals in the warming pan. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Luna or Ginevra, but never both, and each gave him an ill feeling. When the sun finally began to rise and cast a radiant gleam into his room, he jumped out of bed, wishing to free himself from the restless slumber as soon as possible.

Harry wandered the castle, running into only a few servers preparing for breakfast. He wasn't certain where he was allowed to go, but no one told him that he was unwelcome where he walked. He began to feel a vague sense of familiarity when he realized he was on his way to the princess' bedroom. Without further persuasion, he picked up his pace and, after taking only one wrong turn, was facing the blank door without a clue what he intended to do next. He had little to do but knock, so he raised his arm and tapped quietly on the door.

At first he thought the lady might still be sleeping, but he heard something hit the floor on the other side of the door. He knocked again and whispered loud enough for his voice to carry though the door, "Princess? It is Sir Harry."

"Aren't you aware," Ginevra spoke back harshly as the door swung open, "that it is bad luck to look at the bride on her wedding day?"

If she were going to a wedding, it looked to be one far away and not her own. She wore an unremarkable grey gown, something he saw on a lot of the peasant girls where he lived. His mind raced to a particular peasant girl before he returned to the situation.

"Luckily for you, I have no intention of being married today." The princess wore a mischievous smile and held in her hand a letter. "I intended to leave this here for my father to find, but if you'd like to deliver the peace treaty to him yourself, you may take it." She held the page aloft, within Harry's reach.

"I don't understand," Harry confessed.

Ginevra placed the page just inside her room before crossing her arms below her bosom. "I can see you know little of war but much more of love, so you will understand when I tell you that for all the man that you are, you are not the man for me. My heart," she placed her hand on her chest, "belongs to a man already, and none of my father's best wishes will change that."

Harry's eyes flashed to where her hand rested and again saw the dangling green gem. His eyes narrowed. "A Slytherin?" he whispered harshly.

The smile on Ginevra's face widened. "We cannot chose whom we fall for, Mr. Potter. I for one am not going to wait around for my father's approval when I am nearly on the shelf and the match benefits my homeland." She pulled a hood he hadn't seen over her identifying red hair. "I'm leaving before I'm noticed. I suggest you return to your chambers before someone makes the assumption that you had anything to do with my disappearance."

Not bothering to give Harry time to put all of her pieces together, the princess closed her bedroom door and made for the rear of the castle. He had no doubt that she had an escape route planned already and the last thing he wanted was to be caught where he was. Several servants had already seen him, but if the document she had been holding was what she said it was, hopefully the king would have enough proof without asking his lowly workers.

Quicker than he thought possible, he found his way back to his room. Despite the unfamiliar decoration and uncomfortable mattress, Harry was able to relax enough to doze off. He guessed he slept an hour before he was roused; the princess was long gone. As the king apologized for his daughter's thoughtless and cruel way of presenting the arrangement, he had to admit that the marriage between his daughter and Prince Draco would be the best solution for the turmoil growing in the south.

Lord James was slightly red in the face, but he was unwilling to snap at the king for the sudden change in Harry's future. He did perk up slightly when King Arthur turned to Harry and asked if there was anything he could do to make up for his loss of a wife. James stepped forward, prepared to make a suggestion no doubt involving a title, but the words were out of Harry's mouth faster than he had time to think them. "I would like your permission, your highness, to marry a peasant, Luna Lovegood."


	9. Epilogue

Harry's mother and father, at first entirely shocked by their son's request to the king, sat dutifully behind the couple and the church official. After the king agreed to Harry's request, there was little either of them could do about the arrangement that would forever bind their son to a commoner and negate his availability to other women of prestige. Harry's mother was the first to have a change of heart, which occurred shortly after he noticed her in a heated conversation with his professor. Eventually both of his parents offered their blessing and it turned out his father actually liked Luna's slightly disconnected way of looking at things.

Upon Harry's return to the castle, he had searched high and low to find the girl, but she hadn't made it easy. He had looked in every corridor, searched their area of the forest, and then went to meet her father. The man, considered to be a little out of sync with reality, was thrilled to hear the news, but regretted to say that Luna had not been there in two days. Only when he thought he was out of options and had lost his momentum did he remember the hidden room he had shown her.

Luna had been sitting in the very center of the room, her legs crossed beneath her skirts and a book propped open in her lap. The scrape of his shoes had alerted her to his presence. Without looking at him, she closed the book and stood. With a heavy sigh she began, "I didn't realize you would be returning so soon, I -" her sentence was cut off by a shout she exclaimed in surprise. Harry had grabbed her by the waist, picked her up from the ground, and spun her around three times, a gleeful smile on his face. Without any words from him, she understood.

It was not a royal wedding; there were no trumpeters and there were not hundreds of guests. The citizens were invited into the throne room to watch the local ceremony. Harry had made certain that Luna's dress looked exactly as she pleased, and he couldn't hold back a smile when she made her entrance in a flowing white gown with tiny bits of lace lining the sleeves and train. The smile broadened when he saw her pink bare toes peeking out from under the hem as she stepped forward. Her bouquet was made of purple and white flowers, just like the ones they had carried to her mother's grave many years before. The only difference was a single yellow rose in the very center of the bunch.

The ceremony was short, with none of the fancy flourish and contractual statements that laced the nuptials of important figures. In fact, before Harry knew it, Luna was staring at him with expectant eyes and an impish smile. The words "husband and wife" registered in his brain after a half second and he leaned forward to kiss her supple lips.

"My knight," Luna whispered as they parted.

"My lady."

 **Author's Note:**

And there you have it! I always personally thought Harry and Luna should have been together. If you made it all the way through this non-magical AU, I thank you greatly. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined. Thank you much!

According to Wikipedia, a yellow rose means, among other things, friendship. A thornless rose means "love at first sight". White and purple flowers are generally a combination of "whimsical" "daydreaming" "devotion" and "peace". A daffodil symbolizes "uncertainty, chivalry, respect or unrequited love, return my affection" while a yellow tulip means "hopeless love".


End file.
